My Swordhand and Other Wild Animals
by tiggers-can't-eat-thistles
Summary: Robin Grimm is a thousand years old. She is a lost soul who has walked this earth amongst generations of mortals - never truly connecting with another person. During her enlistment in Valm's army, her comrades are slaughtered in an ambush by the Pelagians, leaving only her alive but without her memories. Chrobin, Wanderer AU, can be found on AO3 under the username silverblueeyes.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue:**_

 _She Had No Name_

It all began with amnesia.

She'd woken up, dazed and confused, in a wildflower meadow with bare legs and arms - the only thing keeping her decent was a black cloak that had been draped over her. It was lashing rain, and he could feel her warm-cold body against his as the company rode back to the castle - even through layers of thick armour he could feel her getting colder and colder and beginning to shake.

She'd been put to bed and until her fever broke three days later, Lissa'd taken great care of her. He made sure that Lissa didn't catch anything off the girl, despite Lissa's protests that she was fine and didn't need to be mollycoddled.

On the fourth day, the girl's abnormally blue eyes opened, and she began to scream. Lissa was quick to quiet her, but the noise didn't go unnoticed by the servants. Rumours began to spread around the servants' halls and quarters - rumours of prisoners of war retrieved from their hellish cells, and noisy lovers writhing under the limbs of the family - but these were quickly squashed.

They tried to find out who this girl was. She couldn't even tell them her name. She wasn't awake long enough to do so. She was barely awake five hours before she fell ill again. She didn't recover - shitting and vomiting up buckets of dark red, putrid blood onto the stone floors.

They didn't mourn her for long past her funeral. They soon forgot she was even there. It was, after all, easier to forget.

They never thought they'd see her again.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1:**_

 _Young Woman with a Skull_

 _i.)_

Basil has tears in his eyes when Robin comes in through the door, and she immediately understands the situation.

"Is it time?" she asks her friend - the first thing she says to him in nearly six months - and he doesn't even have to nod for her to understand that it is.

He wipes the tears staining snail trails down his face away. "I'm glad you could come. Do you want to sit down? You must be tired..." He stifles a motion that looks like a sob, and Robin knows Basil's just throwing out habitual pleasantries. May's time is drawing near, and all he wishes to do is weep.

She drops her pack with a clunk on the wooden floor and passes by Basil to the stairwell. He follows her up the stairs.

The stairs creak with every step, and Robin knows this is the last time she'll ever hear those noises in this particular house. The last time she'll taste Basil's infamously spicy chili and hear May's laughter as she wipes away the tears in her eyes from the strong taste. It's the last time she'll visit. The very last.

The corridor is dark, and May's room is darker still, so Robin can barely see May's sleeping face when she walks through the door. Her little chest, barely even scraping the cusp of womanhood, rises and falls so sharply she knows that May is barely clinging to the last thread of life.

Her face is pale, gentle and peaceful - and therefore indescribably lovely. May had been born fragile, and the doctors had said that - like her late mother - had been lucky to live past her first birthday. But despite May's fragile body, she had a stubborn soul. She hung onto life no matter what the cost, and whenever Robin saw her she felt this odd warmth in her chest.

Basil often told Robin that when May passed through the inn, May would get out of bed to greet them, charm them with her sweet smile and ask them questions like; "Where are you going?" "Where are you from?" "Will you tell me a story?" And she would listen attentively when they told her stories of their home countries and the places they've been, because despite the fact that she knows she'll never have an adventure of her own, she would always settle for a story.

When Robin first met May, she'd been coming from taking out one target and was moving onto the next. That was her life at the time. One murder after the next. One battlefield after the other. Step by useless step, nothing gained and so many lives wasted. Drinking herself into a stupor so she couldn't feel any more pain.

May's smile made her feel something she hadn't felt in almost ten years. So when she'd almost begged Robin for a story, she felt obligated to sit down and speak.

She told her of the fishing villages in the North that she lived in for so long she considered them her home for a while. She told her about the rivers that threaded through the capital of the North - Waleworth City - and how the royal couple would, every Friday, take a gondola to visit the people.

She told her of the Great Grey Mountains named Gazak and Gabat, and how they were once immortal lovers who were cursed by the gods to never be together who turned themselves into mountains so they'd eternally be together no matter what the gods said.

She told her about how the shoulders and heads of those very mountains were always caked in snow and, before a battle she'd had, she and her comrades had had a snowball fight - something Robin'd never usually do but it was something that had felt strangely appropriate at the time.

She never told her about the awful side of her life.

She never told her about the people she killed or the blood she spilled.

She never told her how, only an hour or so after the snowball fight, the snow on that mountain was stained with red.

She never told her about how everything she'd done weighed on her shoulders like boulders and how her life dragged on and on like a never ending road.

Robin sits on the bed and tucks a strand of wavy brown hair behind the girl's ear. She's had quite a history with death. She knows by now that when a person is dying, speech goes, then sight, and hearing lingers for a little before Death finally opens up his door. Robin knows that May is near the door of Death, and that she has a limited amount of time to speak with the girl - so she'll have to make this one count.

"Hey, May. I know you can hear me. At least I hope you can hear me." Robin smiles. The corner of May's mouth twitches. And so, Robin tells her story - her final, final story.

She tells her of the infinite ocean and the infinite sky that almost verged together in a mirror-like blue.

She tells her of the white seabirds that chased each other through the sky like children running through streets.

She tells her of the mouth of a cave that looked like a yawning old man, and the rock pools in the cave that were filled with crabs and tadpoles.

She tells her of how she caught her captain singing when she was patrolling the beach and how, despite his initial embarrassment, they ended up in a duet.

She tells her of how the clouds in the sky looked like cotton candy, and how the eyes of one of her comrades was just as blue as the sky, and how when she kissed him it felt like flight - even though it was over so quickly.

She doesn't tell her of the fierce ocean battle that followed. She doesn't tell her about how the blood of her enemies and comrades stained the sea a purplish-red. She doesn't tell her about finding the body of the boy she kissed and having to burn it with the others.

She tells her things that deserve to be heard by a girl who wants to see the world but can't. Because she doesn't deserve to see the awful side of life. There isn't enough innocence in this world and, by the gods, Robin wants to be like her - innocent of the world again.

May's breaths are slowing down now, and Robin knows that she doesn't have a lot of time left. She puts a hand on the girl's cheek

"You're going on a journey of your own now. You'll be going to a place of peace. You'll meet your mom there, and one day your dad will follow you. And you won't have to worry about anything anymore, because you'll be well looked after."

She pauses for a moment and swallows a sob as a tear paves its way down May's cheek.

"And..." Robin pauses. "And I'll follow you eventually too."

Her final lie to her.

May's breathing finally stops, and the small hand that lay on her chest flops to the mattress.

Robin stands up, nodding to Basil who collapses into her, and they both weep. But, unlike Basil, Robin has lost plenty and will lose plenty more.

 _ii.)_

 _Chrom... Chrom we can't just leave her here..._

 _Milady, she could be dangerous._

 _She's an injured Valm soldier, Frederick! Look at her clothes!_

 _She could be disguised as one, milady..._

 _FREDERICK! She's injured! Put her on your horse and stop being a bull-headed, stupid..._

 _Lissa._

 _Sorry, Chrom._

 _Frederick, put the girl on your horse and bring her back to sickbay. Lissa, go with him and make sure the girl actually gets to sickbay._

 _...Right you are, milord._

 _Yes, Chrom._

 _I'll go see if any Pelagians are still wandering around looking for scraps._

 _Is that wise, milord?_

 _Of course, Frederick. A good shepard must always protect his or her flock, am I right?_

 _Yes, milord._

 _I shall see you back at base then._

 _Okay._

 _Aye, milord._

 _iii.)_

Lissa prides herself on her work in the medical field. She has never been the warrior Chrom is, and she has no talent for politics like Emmeryn has, so medicine was her best bet. She'd always wanted to help people. When she was younger she'd heard so many stories of how her mother's healing touch helped the people of Ylisse, acting as the anchor to her father's inexplicable rage, inspiring Lissa to become the same one day.

She's always liked the smell of hospitals. They don't seem sterile, just clean. Cleaner than the sickbays Lissa has been in, hovering nervously over moaning, injured soldiers and trying not to gag at the unholy stench of opened gangrenous infections - black and grey and yellow and spitting pus and blood - that should have been seen to months ago, and trying not to cry as some of these poor men and women succumbed to the infections and injuries that they just couldn't heal, while drawing a sheet over their heads.

She's always liked the clean smell of hospitals. So, she is surprised at the cleanly smell of this particular sickbay, as she and Frederick carries in the girl, who'd collapsed on the way to the sickbay.

Kamari, a young and handsome priest who'd been a refugee escapee near Ferox who'd joined their cause after his home was destroyed by Grimleal, quickly joins Lissa's side.

"Lady Lissa, what's the situation?" asks Kamari.

Lissa lays the girl down carefully onto one of the beds, and gestures for him to come to her side. "Help me find any injuries or infections on this girl. Then we'll see what the situation is."

Unzipping the heavy black and purple coat pulled round the girl, the girl's figure is revealed to them. She is slender, with small breasts strapped close to her body with bandages (a practice Lissa looks down upon - if the girl manages to awaken, she'd have to give her (or him) a lecture on the dangers of binding with bandages) and her light tank top has been ruined with hundreds of rips and tears as if somebody had stabbed her multiple times...

"Not even a scratch." Lissa looks up from her perusal of the girl's body, and peers over at Kamari, who is staring incredulously down at the girl. "Who'd've thought it. A girl who was in the epicentre of the attack and she gets out without a mark on her while everybody else around her is dead."

Lissa shakes her head. "Poor girl. Why do you think she collapsed then?"

"Don't know. There's no sign of injury or internal bleeding - you'd think she just collapsed from exhaustion."

Lissa stands up. "Could be. Keep an eye on her and alert me if she changes in any way, I need to send a message to Valm."

Leaving Kamari at the girl's side, Lissa strides through the sickbay, brushing the tent flap to the side as she blinks at the bright sunlight. Standing outside the tent, Lissa stands in thought for a minute.

There is no way in hell that the girl could've survived the ambush. According to the message Emmeryn had received from Phila, over three hundred assassins, archers and myrmidons from the Grimleal had hidden out near the place the Valmese army had set for a hideout while they planned their next move against Pelagia. At sundown nearly a week ago, the ambush was carried out. The remaining Valmese and the Ylissians were left to mourn the dead and carry the injured (of which there were few) to sickbays and heal them as best as they could before they inevitably succumbed to their grievous injuries. But... then there's this girl. Her clothes are torn to shreds, yet her body is uninjured. One would think she was a victim of a rape instead, but the state of her body suggests otherwise. Lissa, curiosity getting the better of her, turns to see Frederick feeding his horse.

"Perfect timing, Freddy-bear."

Frederick, wincing at the nickname, turns to face Lissa and waits patiently for her to approach. "Milady. Is there something you need."

Lissa rolls her eyes, something she's aware that she does a lot in Frederick's presence. "Yes, Frederick. I was wondering if the girl had any weaponry or anything on her person when we found her."

"Shall we be adding her belongings to the convoy?"

"Oh, no! Well, I would like to be able to give her her belongings back when she wakes up. But I would also like to take a look..." Lissa trails off, as she catches sight of something shiny and strangely shaped hanging off one of the bags of Frederick's pack. "What on earth is that?"

The corner of Frederick's lip twitches in amusement at Lissa's incredulous cry as he unsheathes the odd blade from its equally strange scabbard. "It is one of the weapons we found on the girl's person. Strange isn't it?"

Lissa silently agrees with Frederick's statement. The handle is shaped oddly, as if made for the left hand rather than the right, to say nothing of the broad, long, lightning-shaped blade that almost seems to crackle with...

"Yeow!" Lissa flinches back as electricity burns its way up her fingers and arm. Her arm throbs from the sharp crackle that shook up her arm, and her right hand shakes.

"Milady, are you alright?" Frederick's usual monotone has become tinged with concern at her flash of pain, and Lissa rubs her hand.

"I'm fine, Frederick. But what in the name of Naga was that? I've never seen such a blade before."

Frederick shakes his head. "I don't know, milady. This kind of blade is certainly not of Ylissian make."

Lissa frowns down at her injured hand, and looks up at the blade, which is still in Frederick's hands. This just cements her thoughts; the girl back in the tent is a mystery that needs to be solved by Lissa. And if she doesn't solve the mystery, who would?

 _iv.)_

By the time Chrom returned to camp, the girl he, Lissa and Frederick had discovered had been asleep three days. The strange appearance of the girl had stayed in Chrom's mind, as had the strange things Lissa had written about her in the medical report. Usually Lissa would keep the medical records out of his hands but, according to her, she knew he would find these particularly interesting.

And he had. Not a single mark on her, despite coming out of a bitter battle? Strange spiral tattoos from her elbows tapering down to her middle fingers? Two tattoos on the spaces between her ankles and heels that looked like tied up arrows? A mark on her left heel that looked like it had been a tattoo, but was too faded to tell?

He needed to get back to Ylisse. He needed to see this girl and see what mettle she was made of. He couldn't stay here, on horseback for too long. Still, he did enjoy sitting atop a white horse. He seemed all the more handsome and princely with the white stallion between his flanks. Village maidens swooned as they saw him, and the people loved him all the more. He loved to be loved. He loved to be as princely as he was. He loved fighting too - the feeling of Falchion's grip as blessed steel crashed against iron or bronze as he sparred with Frederick or Vaike or whoever had taken a chance at sparring with the 'good and noble Chrom'.

He had forgotten what arrogance could cost a man.

 _v.)_

 _Ouch. Double ouch..._

 _Actually make that triple ouch._

 _I've gotten drunk again._

 _Obviously._

 _No stupid brain - go back to sleep._

 _Light is through curtains. Am inside. Last time got drunk, fell asleep in gutter. Smell took days to wash off. Bad thing, that._

 _Need to pee. Need to sleep more._

 _Good brain. Lights out._

 _Holy Mother of Naga._

 _I hurt everywhere. EVERYWHERE._

 _My eyelids are welded to my face. That's nice._

 _Oh god, sleep now think later._

 _Ah. Good brain._

 _Water. Somebody. Anybody. Please. Glass of water._

 _Head hurts. Joints stiff. Legs feel like mashed potatoes._

 _Am immensely sore. Like, tremendously, rediculously, what the mother fuck sore._

 _Oh Naga._

 _Where the hell am I?_


	3. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2:**_

 _Felling Any Foe With My Gaze_

 _i.)_

"Mama? What's that bird?"

Robin looks up from her book, and smiles as little Morgan points at the small red and brown bird that had perched itself on the branch directly over her head.

"That's a robin, sweetie," Robin replies, with a smile.

Morgan squints at her in confusion."But I thought you were called Robin."

Robin chuckles. "No, no, sweetie. I was merely named after the bird."

"Oh." Morgan scrunches his nose in thought for a minute before looking up at the bird and yelling, "Hello Bird-That-Mama-Was-Named-After!"

The bird, startled, fluttered off to the tree facing Robin and Morgan, ruffling its feathers irritably.

"Aww, it flew away." Morgan looks up at Robin, his lower lip slightly stuck out in a pout. "Why did he fly away, Mama?"

"Well, birds don't like loud noises."

"Oh. But you're Robin, mama. Would you fly away from me like the bird did?"

Robin shook her head and kissed him on the temple, pulling him close into a hug. "No, sweetie. I'd never fly away from you. I'd never leave you. I wouldn't do that..."

 _ii.)_

Robin opens her eyes, her bloodshot blue eyes and groaned as a dull headache rolled through her brain. She sat up against the pillows and poked her tongue against her lips, trying desperately to moisten a mouth that felt and tasted like sandpaper. She was no stranger to the groggy headed feeling of a hangover early in the morning.

But it wasn't the morning, was it? And she certainly didn't remember getting drunk... or coming home from battle... or anything much, really.

Dammit, she'd had another blackout again, hadn't she? She really should've chosen somebody else as her drinking partner other than Balton Wallace. The fool always insisted that she should drink more than she needed to - mostly so he could try and convince her to open her legs for him (though he stopped making a move on her the time she hadn't missed when she had tried to punch him in the throat). Now he could pay her bill for her stomach pump again.

"Ah, you're awake."

Robin blinked, and looked up from the spot on the tent wall that she hadn't realised she'd been staring at. "Oh, hi."

A short blonde girl wearing a yellow dress with a brown corset belt and a rather worn out looking petticoat stands in the flap of the tent. She holds a great heap of books in her arms, and she places them down with a thump onto the box sitting in the corner. Dusting off her hands, she spins to face Robin, a rather fluid motion for somebody wearing such restrictive clothing.

"How are you feeling?" the girl asks briskly, a strange tone for one so young.

Robin tries to shake her head and winces - her neck hurts from the awkward angle she's been sitting in. "Not great. Head hurts."

"Hm." The girl strides over and gestures for Robin to lie her head back down onto the pillow. When she does, the girl's gloved fingers begin to turn green and Robin doesn't know whether to flinch away or not, but when the feeling of the girl's healing magic begins to swirl through her head she can't do anything but sigh as the groggy pain of her headache melts away like ice under a hot summer sun.

After what feels like mere seconds, the girl pulls her hand away, and she gestures for Robin to sit up again. "Do you know where you are?" she asks once Robin settles herself back down on the pillow.

Robin shrugged. "No."

"Do you remember leaving the battlefield?"

Robin lurches forward a little. "W-what battlefield?"

"You don't remember anything?"

Robin shakes her head. "No, I do remember stuff. I mean... I remember..." But it's like all the memories she'd had have dripped away from her brain like water through spread fingers. She can't pull a single memory out of her brain. Except... suddenly, Henry's smile and Tharja's sunbrushed face come to mind - her brother and sister. Gods, how long has it been since she's seen them last?

The girl has said something, but Robin was too wrapped up in her thoughts to hear. "Sorry, did you say something?"

The girl sighs, slightly exasperated, which makes Robin remember the girl's still young. "I said that I have informed Valm of your survival. There should be somebody along soon to take you back home."

Robin stares at her for a moment, and then laughs. It's more of a chuckle really, but it gets the girl's hackles up a little, and Robin fixes her with a stare. "You didn't need to. My contract's up with them by now anyway, and I don't have a home."

The girl blinks. "You... you're a mercenary?"

Robin shrugs. She doesn't like saying that she is, but it's better to state the truth than anything else. Well, most of the time. "What happened on the battlefield?"

The girl pauses for a moment before sighing. "You were ambushed. Most of your comrades were killed and..."

"And I was the only person who survived." Robin drags a hand down her face. Again already? She loses so many people in battle and because of her curse she can't go alongside them.

"You also were left unharmed." The girl pauses. "Although, judging by the cuts through your clothes, you probably should've been just as dead as the rest of them."

Robin forces back a scowl. This girl is really cutting too close to the truth. But, she's a medic, and smart too. She'd probably figure it out soon enough. Nonetheless... "I have excellent reflexes and fast self-healing abilities."

"Is that due to your training?"

"No, my bloodline." Robin realises that the person that spoke was, in fact, not the medic girl but a new speaker. She looks over at him, and swallows back a gasp. In her lifetime she has seen many handsome men. This man... He looks like Marth. He really looks like Marth.

And Robin looks away, and pretends to not think of the blue haired hero king as the tall, blue haired, blue eyed man with the soft smile that reminds her of the smiles Marth used to give her approaches her bedside.

"Hello. What's your name?" Oh, gods. His voice is exactly like Marth's. Deep and warm, like coffee on a cold winter's night. Robin tries not to bite her lip like she always used to do when she was around Marth, fails miserably, and turns to face the boy - the boy that _is not Marth,_ _ **dammit.**_

 __"Hi. I'm Robin."

He smiles. "Hi Robin. I'm Chrom. How would you like to join the Rangers?"

The way he says this, it sounds like a great thing. However, judging by the blonde medic's gasp, she comes to the conclusion that it probably isn't. Shit - what has she gotten herself into?

 _iii.)_

 _Chrom, what the fuck are you doing?_

 _Lissa!_

 _No, seriously Chrom. You barely know this girl, and now you're offering her a place with the Rangers?_

 _You were the one who told me through her medical report that she's talented enough to join. And you were the one to suggest bringing her back to base._

 _...Chrom. You were not supposed to read the medical reports, you MORON. And for that matter, I 'suggested' bringing her back to base, as you so aptly put it, because I thought she was injured, you dumbass. And anyway, she could be an enemy. But you still offered her a place on the team, instead of considering the possibility of adding some of the medics to the team._

 _I can't add medics to the team! Who will take care of the people when we're gone?_

 _OH RIGHT. So you big strong men can join, but the people who will keep your sorry asses together can't leave the hospitals, because they_ might _be killed in action, when if you actually had an idea of what the hell you were doing half the time we'd be right at your sides keeping you safe while you hack away at bad guys! Have you ever thought of that Chrom?_

 _No..._

 _Of course not! Because you think fighting is all about kill all bad guys, and you don't have to worry about getting killed because you're invincible! That's the kind of mindset that got Dad killed, Chrom._

 _..._

 _Ugh, forget it. Come back to me when you get some kind of sense knocked into you._

 _iv.)_

Robin's body is littered with scars from old hunts, a living tapestry of near-misses and fights. Despite her fast healing abilities, she still had these scars. The puckered white one that had come from a poison vine nymph she'd encountered on her way to a fight, a trio of scratches on her shoulder blades on either side from an idolamantis that had taken a liking to her and had dug its long dagger claws into her flesh to fly her up to its nest with its shadow gossamer wings, teethmarks from a hungry shadow wolf who's head she used to hang on her belt as a symbol of her proficiency ...

Her belt! Where's her belt? Looking round the darkening tent, she can see no sign of her personal belongings, and a shock of fear bolts through her. Shite. Where have the bastards put her stuff now?

Ignoring the fact that she's only in a nightgown - and a very flimsy one at that - and that she has no shoes on, she stomps out of the tent, looking around for somebody who might be available to find her stuff.

A tall knightly looking man with shaggy brown hair and a rather solemn demeanor walks up to her. "Excuse me, but are you Robin?"

Robin looks up at the man (and tries not to show her irritation that she has to strain to look up at him). "Yeah, I'm Robin. What's the problem?"

The man, evidently taken aback by her brusque tone, stutters for a moment. "Well, Lady Elizabeth asked me to bring you your belongings. But..."

"But nothing." Robin grins. "So where did you put all my stuff? Can't have all my gear on you right now."

The man smiles a little (well, it's more of a twitch of his lips, but it probably counts as a smile nonetheless). "As a matter of fact, Lady Robin, I do."

Robin twitches. "Don't call me that. It makes me feel old."

"What shall I call you then?"

"Just Robin, thanks."

The man smiles again (still a twitch of lips again. Robin makes a mental note that she's going to try to make this stonefaced bastard smile). "Well then, Just Robin, here's your belongings."

He hands her her cloak, washed, neatly folded and probably ironed too. The contents of her pockets have been separated alongside her bag of tomes and the actual belt. She smiles, and turns to pull on the warm cloak. She'd lined it with fire spider silk a few months ago so it would warm her when it was cold and cool her when she was hot. She quickly fills the deep pockets and futzes around with her burned black leather belt until something occurs to her.

"Hey." Robin pokes the man's shoulder

He turns to face her. "Something the matter?"

"Was there a stone in my pocket? Like a round, flat stone with a rune on it?"

"Yes? But I think it broke?"

"Do you have a convoy? Was it in there?"

"Yes it was in the convoy and it is a possibility that it broke in there. What's your point?"

Robin swears. "That was a summoning stone. And when you break a summoning stone, the creature you summon with..."

"Is summoned there permanently until another stone is found." He begins to look a little worried. "What kind of creature was it?"

Robin opens her mouth to answer, but is interrupted with a high pitched screech. She turns to run towards the noise, and throws an answer over her shoulder. "Black mamba."

And she can hear the dull thuds of his shoes against dirt as he follows her to the convoy.

 _v.)_

Frederick tries to take his eyes off the girl. He really does. But he can't - especially when she's cooing over such a deadly creature as a black mamba.

Black Mamba. Classification _Dendroaspis polylepis._ Huge populations of these kinds of snakes lived in Pelagia because of the hot desert weather. At least, according to Cherche, who'd drip-fed him these kinds of unnecessary facts about the scaly creatures when they were dating.

Frederick winces and Robin giggles as the grey and white snake slithers through her fingers and its ink black tongue flicks out at her, her arms almost covered by the too-long sleeves of her cloak, the bottom of the sleeves brushing the scratched oak wood tabletops. Something tells him that Robin and Cherche are going to be the best of friends, and that thought kind of terrifies him.

But, yet, speak of the devil and she shall appear - Cherche slips through the tent folds of the common hall with a tray of tea and biscuits. "Hey, Frederick. Tea?"

"Yes, please."

Cherche smiles at him and pours him a cup of steaming tea. "How's your day been? You look tired."

Frederick chuckles, "I could say the same to you too." Dodging an affectionate poke from her, he smiles. "But yes, I am feeling rather worn out."

"No more tired than you usually end up being. May I ask why?"

Frederick angles his head towards Robin, who's snake has fallen asleep on her shoulder and is now reading something from her packed up leather bag of magical tomes. "Our newest recruit let her pet loose in the convoy and we had to save Maribelle from it - or rather save it from Maribelle's boot."

Cherche raises an eyebrow. "Oh dear. May I ask what kind of creature you two were chasing after?"

"Oh, just one of the most poisonous snakes in existence."

Cherche's eyes widen. "A black mamba?"

Frederick nods and smiles as Cherche gets up, abandoning her tea in favour of talking to Robin about her pet. He shakes his head in amusement. He's hardly surprised at all that the mysterious silver-haired girl would be making friends already. She had that kind of face about her after all - the face of somebody who wasn't scared to try and talk to people that normally everybody else wouldn't be interested in. He wished he was like that. But only sometimes.


	4. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3:**_

 _The Earth Turns, From Sanity_

 _i.)_

She knows it's useless.

But she can't help but impulsively fling her body against bars of her cell. It doesn't work, but it strangely feels good as her body bounces off the iron.

"Three! Number Three! Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Prisoners are never referred to by name. Just by number.

The desperation welling up in her belly begins to thicken like bile, and Robin continues to shove against the bars. But they never budge. They just leave a skindeep ache in Robin's muscles and bones.

"Number Three, what's it going to take for you to understand? Do you want to stay here longer? All this is going to do is give you a longer sentence. Do you understand me? Number Three!"

"Do you want to go to the punishment room?"

Robin ignores them. She's been to the punishment room countless times - she has been labeled a 'rebellious prisoner' after all.

Something hot and angry is squirming in her belly. The guards laugh and walk off as she drops to the filthy cell floor and buries her head in her knees like a child. She has been isolated from all the other prisoners for fighting. She thought this would be okay - she's been alone for countless years, on the road and in battle - what's a few days more of loneliness? She'd never realised that loneliness in jail is deeper than any loneliness she'd ever experienced before. And that terrifies her. It really does.

But the true torture here is not the loneliness or the removal of her freedom. It is the unmovingness and the no-time-passingness. A moving river will never become putrid, but dam it up and you can be sure that's exactly what it will do.

Maybe that's what is happening to her. Maybe Robin is beginning to become putrid inside, and deep down in her mind and body she's beginning to give off a rotten stench. So she picks herself up again, and flings herself against the bars again.

She does it again and again, and suddenly a puff of air brushes against her cheek like a fairy kiss. Time has suddenly begun to spin again. Where there was once a block in her brain, she can now see the shape of the guards coming towards her and unlocking the jail cell. Time has started to flow again. The river has begun to trickle through the dam and soon enough there shall be a flood.

The guards tie Robin's hands behind her back and tie her legs together.

 _If I breathe new air, will I become anew, or am I so stagnant that the stench has filled me and I can never get rid of it unless I tear out my insides and make new ones? When they finally throw me out of this cage, will I be so rotten I am less of a 'she' and more of an 'it', like the way troops count corpses?_

The guards are dragging her to the punishment room now... Robin can hardly breathe. She is laughing, laughing because she's felt like she's been down here so long she's going crazy. Has she always been crazy? Is this who she really is?

 _ii.)_

She has this inexplicable rage inside of her. She can't remove it, it's almost as if it's been stitched into her DNA.

When Chrom orders Robin to head out with the others on patrol for the first time, she can almost feel lightning zipping through her blood as she traces her fingers over Falchion's handle and sheath and it's almost as if her blood hungers for the feast of the battle. She knows what will come. And she cannot wait to join one of her most precious people's side in battle.

She is perched on a branch of an old oak tree, hidden by the thick foliage and the thin twigs some might mistake for fingers in the dark. Her dark outfit helps her hide from the patrol, and the mask she wears is metal cold on her face.

As the patrol begin to move away from her line of vision, she follows, quick quick as she quietly hops from branch to branch. She's getting close to the patrol, so so close...

"Ho! Who goes there?"

Shit. She hadn't considered Sumia finding her. But, perhaps she could be saved too. She jumps down from the tree and walks out into the sunlight, holding up her arms to show she isn't going to attack. "I mean no harm."

"Do you not? Then why did you follow us?" Sumia's arrow is pulled back to the hilt, and if she doesn't explain herself quickly she knows she will end up with an arrow in the throat and that will be the end of that.

"Do you _want_ to be found by them?" This question is not directed at Sumia, but rather at Robin, who's blue eyes widen at she hears this.

Robin looks up at Sumia. "Sumia. It's okay. She's one of mine."

"Yours?"

Robin looks as if she is about to answer the question. But a high-pitched unholy screech comes from a copse of trees west north west from the group, and they each unsheathe their weapons.

"What the holy fuck was that?" A tall redhead looks around nervously, his shaking hands clutching a 500mag silver shotgun. Damn this kid - he's fresh meat, soon to be dead meat, and she doesn't want to play tactician for anybody other than Robin and the other recognisable faces. She doesn't want to save this kid (because she's selfish and awful) but she has to - it's her job.

A huge, long, blue and white, bullet shaped snout begins to prod through the trees and everybody but Robin and herself gasps at the size of the creature as the beast's head pushes the trees, its slitted pupils narrowing to mere slivers as it raises its great serpentine head. Its wide mouth opens, and silvery ropes of highly poisonous saliva connect to razor sharp fangs that curve inwards, designed to hook, grip, and never ever let go.

Robin turns to face her. "Is this what you came to do? To warn us about this?"

She nods, and Robin grins sharkishly. "Good girl. You know what to do?"

"'Course I do."

"Good. Let's get cracking then." She and Robin move as if to barge straight into the beast, but as they go straight, the snake moves to sink down onto them. Sumia cries out, but they swerve on either side and slash with their blades once, twice, three times before backing off.

The snake screeches, and begins to follow Robin, who runs as if she's dancing - twisting and turning and spinning like a spinning top, dizzying the creature.

She gestures to Sumia and the redhead, who nod (the latter slightly more nervously than former), and Sumia releases the arrow with a 'fush' and the razor sharp iron arrow plunges into the snake's eye, the other releasing the bullet and it sinks into the creatures mouth with a violent explosion of pus and blood.

Vaike dives into the fray, almost following Robin's lazy yet frantic movements as he swings his huge, blood stained axe that he hefts about, plunging it into the snake's tail. The snake loses scent of Robin, and she grins as it looks as if they're going to get rid of the beast.

"Watch out!" the girl screams, and Robin spins to see that Vaike is struggling to get his blasted axe out of the snake's tail, and the great beast has caught Vaike's scent and is opening its enormous jaws.

Robin races forward, but she's not fast enough as the snake's jaws begin to sink into Vaike's bare skin. He roars in agony, and Robin swears loudly before screaming something unintelligible and flinging her arm forward, releasing a bolt of lightning from her palm. She hopes it may work, but the lightning only succeeds in ripping Vaike's muscles apart further, and tears are leaking from his eyes in agony.

Stahl, their supposed superior, leaps off his horse and approaches the beast. "Vaike, move, I'm going to spike this bastard," he mutters, brandishing his spear.

"Oh, yeah, like I am actually able to move - fuck!" He roars in pain, as Stahl bends round him, and he plunges his spear into the beast's scales. The beast roars, and pulls its head up to scream in agony as blue-black blood spurts from the beast's body, and it rolls over, crushing Stahl's leg and the arm clutching the spear - shattering Stahl's leg and breaking his arm, ripping Vaike's shoulder and shoulderblade muscles to bits, and spearing itself on the long weapon.

Robin and the girl swear loudly, and dash over to the injured soldiers. Robin turns to the other, uninjured soldiers.

"Where are your vulneraries?"

They look at each other. "We only have one between the rest of us."

" _What?_ Agh, give it to Vaike. Then help me get Stahl on his horse." Robin turns to Sumia. "Aren't you a medic?"

"No."

"WHAT? Do we not have any medics on this team?"

Heads shake all around.

"Oh my... Are there any medics on call? Please tell me there are medics on call."

Again, heads shake.

Robin and the girl share disgusted looks before Robin looks at the rest of the group. "What the hell is wrong with you people?"

 _iii.)_

Chrom doesn't expect the violent slap from Lissa, but he really should've. He had it coming, and when Lissa's small but hard hand cuffs him on the cheek leaving a bright red handmark, he should've realised this would happen. But he didn't. Fool.

"Ow! Lissa, what the..."

He doesn't finish his sentence, as he sees the pure, undiluted fury raging behind a icy cold expression. "Chrom. I don't know how to say this, but..."

She looks around, then grips his wrist in an iron tight fist and pulls him close enough for her to say quietly so only he can hear her, "If mom or dad were here, they would be so very disappointed with you."

She then releases his wrist as if she were holding an old dirty sock, and storms out of the tent.

Chrom groans. "What have I done this time?"

 _iv.)_

Robin and the girl (who's name, it turns out, is Lucina) sit vigil over Vaike and Stahl's sickbeds listening to the sound of their comrades' heart moniters. Stahl's right arm is strapped close to his chest and his leg is plastered up and elevated by a loop of cloth on a hook. Vaike... dear god, Vaike looks like shit. The normally hale, tan and hearty warrior is bedridden, his stitches shaped like wild veins and he's on so much morphine he can't feel it when Lissa (his girlfriend and doctor) squeezes his hand and smiles tearfully as she looks down at him.

Robin can almost feel the palpable frustration and anger rising from the small blonde girl, but when she puts a hand on her shoulder, she's surprised when she doesn't get shaken off, but instead receives an awkward smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"I..." Lissa pauses. "I'm okay. But I should really be asking you the same question."

"I suppose so. You are the medic, after all."

Lissa's laughter is forced, as if every sound is being forced out of her body like a squeaky toy. "I am, aren't I? Yet it seems that my position as a doctor is completely worthless if I cannot prevent these kind of injuries..." She allows herself a wry smile and places her hand in the sleeping Vaike's larger one. Her flint-grey eyes soften as her thumb brushes Vaike's skin, and he almost subconciously squeezes her hand.

Robin, feeling rather uncomfortable that she's watching this very intimate moment, clears her throat, and smiles awkwardly at Lissa as her head shoots round to fix her with a glare.

"About that..." Robin steadies herself and looks Lissa right in the eyes. "Why are there no medics on the patrols? Are they on call, or..."

Lissa interrupts her with a groan. "Thank Naga, somebody gets it."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, come on. You know how ridiculous it is that medics are practically hospitalbound."

A shot of red rage electrifies Robin's veins, and she clenches her jaw. "What."

"You heard me."

"And by who's authority?"

"Chrom's."

Robin bursts out laughing. She laughs and laughs, until tears are leaking out her eyes, her stomach hurts, and Lissa and Lucina are giving her strange looks.

"You're kidding me right?" Robin says with a stifled giddy chuckle.

Lissa shakes her head. "Unfortunately, no."

Robin stares at her for a moment, then groans, placing her head in her hands. "How has this army not fallen apart?"

"Simple. Frederick."

Robin looks up. "Who?"

"He's sort of the sanity man around here. He keeps everybody together, keeps all the loose ends tied up, gives jobs to anybody who needs it. He's also Chrom's right hand man."

"Isn't that the leader's job?"

Lissa rolls her eyes. "At this point, I'm not so sure."

 _v.)_

"According to Lissa, you're the person to go to."

Frederick looks up from his book and sighs as Robin grins at him. He was just getting comfortable when the silver haired girl approached him. Dammit. He wasn't going to get any spare time for himself, was he?

"I'm the person to go to for what?"

"Oh, you know. Jobs and such like."

Frederick sighs. "And you need a job."

"Or rather, a more permanent place in the Ranger ranks."

Oh bother. This was going to take a while. Shifting on the couch so there was space for the smaller girl to sit down, Frederick carefully marked his page and placed the book on the counter next to him before facing the girl. "What do you want?"

Robin's smile didn't waver, even at Frederick's grumpy question. "I want to take the placement of tactician."

Frederick's brow raised. "You wish to take up as a tactician? Strange, nobody has ever specifically requested to take the job before."

"Yes, and look at all the damage that was done because of the poor running of this broken down ship. This army is barely running, there are no active war medics, your leader is playing prince and is ignoring his duties and is making foolish decisions that are not his to make, and according to Lissa you are doing most, if not all, of the hard work." Robin's grin turns vicious. "I've been in many armies before, Frederick, but I've never been in one so terribly organised." She pauses. "I wasn't always a mercenary, y'know. I used to be Valm's tactician, before I realised that my skills were being misused. If that is not enough to convince you, then nothing will. Good day to you."

She left as quickly as she arrived, and Frederick let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding in. Gods, she made some good points though. And tactician of Valm - that was a huge deal, seeing as Valm's army consisted of almost five times the amount of soldiers the Shepards had. The girl was more than she seemed, he suspected. And considering the fact that she'd survived a massacre barely a week or so ago, she seemed to be of sound mind.

He smirked. _I'll bring the suggestion to Chrom, then._


End file.
